


I Remain A Rock

by quakethirteen



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Infinity War, Gen, No Romance, major angst, the other character tags are brief mentions, this is more an exploration of his head a la the bargain scene, well tbh we haven't had canon for it yet but that's why i'm writing it, you cannot have Stephen without angst it's a rule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakethirteen/pseuds/quakethirteen
Summary: "All that power... in the hands of a madman. A nihilist."Stephen Strange knew the Infinity War would leave him the last one standing. He just hadn't known how great the price would be to get there. Or if his mental faculties could get him through whatever came next.A short imagining of Avengers: Infinity War through the eyes of the Sorcerer Supreme.





	

The thing about the vast expanse of the cosmos is, it mocks you.

Especially when you’ve witnessed part of it folding in on itself in the snap of a finger, taking with it everything you’ve ever known, loved and remembered, like a mere paper towel wiping up specks of dirt; and you can only stand there and watch the dirt being wiped away, gone for eternity, and it mocks you through your feelings of hopelessness.

That was what Stephen Strange felt right then, watching the paper towel – the Infinity Gauntlet – do its work; like it was spitting in his face for daring to hold out for so long while all the others had already fallen. Another temptation for him to give into death – enforce the deaths of everyone he knew. Prompt him to join them, stop fighting a hopeless cause, because why keep going when there was nothing left to fight for?

That was why he had ended up here, wasn’t it?

He could bear the pain. He had been straining for hours. Spells he hadn’t realized he had perfected yet. Warping reality, only to be thwarted by the Reality Stone. Changing locations, only to have the Space Stone unbalance the arena again. Resorting to brute force, only to have the Power Stone knock him to his feet. And yet, he had kept on. Hoping to buy time. Hoping to find a weakness. Hoping that Thanos would get cocky. Hoping on hope. Because it was the only thing everyone on earth could have.

And now that was gone as well. Along with the souls that carried that hope.

He probably knew exactly how many bones in his body were broken right then. Definitely chances of internal bleeding. His hands were wrecked beyond measure, but it didn’t matter back when he was dying over and over again to stop Dormammu, and it certainly didn’t matter now. As long as he was still standing – no, scratch that. As long as he was still breathing, he would take the fight to Thanos. In return for Thanos mocking him by wiping out a whole universe like it was nothing, Stephen would mock him by staying alive.

The thought brought him a spark of hope, before he made the mistake of turning around.

They were never supposed to follow him here. None of them could have ever stood a chance against the combined might of the Gauntlet, and now that was plain for the cosmos to see, broken and buried by empty space. And the worst part was being there to watch it happen.

Tony Stark, spending his final moments reliving his worst fear: running out of ideas. Telling Stephen to say hi to Pepper for him. And now his armour was his coffin and Pepper was erased from existence. And there was nothing Stephen could do.

Steve Rogers, the last to fall. Sticking a metaphorical middle finger in Thanos’ face with an ode to the strength of humanity and his faith in people, his real shield throughout history. The shield, a symbol of endurance and heart, was now broken on the Sanctuary floor, next to its broken former owner; but the belief it represented still hung in the air, a silent scream to whoever was left.

And there were not many of them to hear it. King T’Challa, graceful till the very end, fighting for his people, dying on their behalf, “as all good leaders must do when the time comes”. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, frail in their humanity, but not in their conviction, and their commitment to putting duty first. Peter Parker, wiser beyond his years, and the most painful sight of them all. Scott Lang, who as Stephen had previously discovered was an unexpectedly good conversationalist, now left his eternal optimism to fading memory.

Wanda Maximoff, using her final moments to give up her hold on her powers, letting loose magic in its rawest, most vicious and chaotic form, nearly bringing Thanos down for the count, before it rebounded against her – almost like a law of equal measures. Stephen had considered asking her to accept an offer of tutelage for her magic; a chance for him to accept responsibility, to leave a legacy behind that for once was something good. And now that chance would never come.

Perhaps she had wished her demise upon herself, watching the Vision pay the ultimate price for using an Infinity Stone for himself. Sustaining his own life was his argument, but to Thanos, it was an unfairly earned life, and so Death herself intervened, in a means to prove his point. Stephen had been too horrified at the spectacle to debate the matter. Besides, lightning does not strike twice.

And speaking of lightning… where in the nine realms was Thor?

“Do you see?” a booming voice called him back to reality. A reality of old friends vanished, and new friends fallen. A reality Stephen was still trying to come to terms to accept. But he had to… he had to believe… he couldn’t let the guilt win over, the guilt that tied him back to Earth. 

Earth, where Sam Wilson had offered to stay aground with Bucky Barnes and manage civilians instead, and Stephen hanging in the background, feeling too guilty, too awkward to tell him that it would inevitably be a lost cause; though maybe, Sam’s actions dictated that he already knew.

Earth, where looking up at the breach between realities hanging in the sky, he and Wong had decided to have beers. Wong had stayed back at the Sanctum, joking about how Mordo might just return if he saw the end of the universe approaching, and he was due a kick in the ass. Stephen didn’t agree, but he didn’t have a choice, either. It was Wong telling him to go and save the world.

Earth, where right before he left to face Thanos, Stephen had called Christine, and it had gone to voicemail. He didn’t remember what he had told her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Do you see how lost your crusade is?” the voice was still saying. Stephen wished the Gauntlet would become sentient and choke either one of them so he didn’t have to hear the voice again. “You say your fight is for the hope of your race. And yet your race has no hope left to give you. Because they have now never existed to believe in your naivete. Your cause is null and void, Sorcerer Supreme. You have no reason to go on. You’re a logical man. Accept that.”

Another wave of energy sent Stephen flying backwards into a spire of mineral, his back taking the full brunt of it. The Cloak of Levitation was too worn, too tired to aid him this time. Even the cloak had seemed to think listening to Thanos was a better idea.

But he couldn’t succumb so easily… not when he was the last one standing. The last remnant of the Infinity War. The last piece of proof that the human race had existed, thrived, and fought.

The last thought hit him harder than the fall he had just taken.

There was no one left. No one but him. He was the planet’s Atlas.

He could feel warm tears stream down his face. He had no idea who he was crying for – for himself? For Earth? For the Avengers? Did it matter?

Did anything matter? Any more?

“Accept that,” Thanos said, as if goading Stephen’s conscience into proving his point. “The Captain said faith was what made humans withstand. I have snuffed out faith itself. So what do you, a human, have left?”

Every ragged breath he took only made the sobs come harder; every one of them prompted by his realization of all the weights he had carried up to this moment. Every time he had saved the earth from threats they could barely perceive. Every word he had said, every disagreement he had offered when Tony talked about taking the fight to Thanos. Every moment he had felt guilty for letting Mordo leave his side.

All of it, for nothing. Reduced to nothing. Thanos was right. What did he have left?

His answer came from the cloak. A feeble movement of its collar across his face. This had happened only once before, and just like back then, he had shed tears for the loss of a beacon of hope. And he had gone on to win that day.

Maybe history couldn’t repeat itself. The odds were too stacked against him. But he had mocked Thanos for this long that he had come to expect it. So Stephen would turn the tables, and turn himself over to Death instead. His body was certainly telling him it was well overdue. And it was the only thing he had left.

Acceptance was not easy. But death was his new reality now. And if he had to be a part of it, be a part of change, then so it would be.

The silent scream of hope would continue to haunt the halls of Valhalla for as long as he willed it to be. After all, mocking cosmic conquerors was his specialty.

Slowly, unsteadily, he put a hand to the ground, raising himself up, ignoring the searing pain through his spine, forcing his neck to allow him to look Thanos in the eye, tear-stained as his face was; as he mentally conjured what he expected to be his final incantation. But the words he said to Thanos were different. They were defiant, and yet, they were peaceful. His severance of his connection to all he had lived through, and mourned for.

“I have myself, proof that the human race stood up to you, and proof you needed to make the bloodiest sacrifice possible to bring me to my knees,” he announced. “Because I would have sooner sacrificed myself to avoid it happening, and you couldn’t have that. So if you no longer have me to taunt, then your effort is in vain, too.”

He paused for breath, a sad, satisfied smile on his face, closing his eyes, preparing for the inevitable blackness. Welcoming it. Embracing it.

“So is written the last will and testament of Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this came about a long, LONG time ago as a result of Twitter discourse over what Strange's role in Infinity War would be, and since the general consensus was it would basically be an angst-ridden tear trip, I took it upon myself to get it written. And drag my Ao3 account out of inactive bookmark hell and make my first actual post by getting this out of Microsoft Word. 
> 
> Thanks to Ducky and Pidgey over on Twitter for making this happen. And for all the pain. :))))
> 
> Find me for more general yelling on Tumblr (Strange-related or otherwise) at [strangequakes](http://strangequakes.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Eternal Optimism](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697658) by [ducky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ducky/pseuds/ducky)




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